Alive
by Eosin Y
Summary: Someday, she'll be on her deathbed. Today, she's cheated Death again. Astoria's illness and how she copes.


**Disclaimer: Don't own it, never will.**

 **Written for Hogwarts School of Witchcraft And Wizardry (Challenges and Assignments) Anatomy and Physiology Task One**

 **Prompt: Write about someone taking measures to avoid getting sick.**

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 _It's good to be back._ Astoria thought as she stumbled into the foyer, clenching Draco's hand as if it were a lifeline. Mimsy offered to take their coats. Astoria used to be able to do the housework herself. It was a year ago when Astoria was forced to hire a house elf.

"Mum, be careful!" Scorpius moved to grab her other hand. Had her hands ever been so cold, lifeless even? Astoria didn't remember. For now, though, it doesn't matter. She was back home with her family. Eyeing her husband for stability, the family settled onto the couch. Draco pulled her bony legs up on to the ottoman. Scorpius and Draco proceeded to the kitchen to prepare her healing potion and tea, two sugars and a dash of cream as she preferred it, leaving her alone with her thoughts.

The first thought that came to her head was the overwhelming gratitude for her family. The second was the equally distressing truth she had known for years but never _understood._

Astoria was always told she was going to die. Sometimes, Astoria didn't feel alive. Living wasn't spending weeks on end with Madame Pomfrey or St. Mungo's. Living wasn't being unable to walk most hours of the day. How does one feel, enjoy, or love with a certain death sentence held above their head? Preventive measures, despite the name, would not prevent the inevitable. Astoria drew a deep breath, trying to savor the sensation. Breathing to others is a forgotten necessity, to her, it is a commodity. She would not live to see her son off at King's Cross again, her weary head on Draco's shoulder as the Hogwarts Express left the station. Astoria Malfoy's days were numbered. Still, Astoria was well. Happy, even. Though her marriage had been arranged, as most pureblood marriages were, there was more to Draco than the rumors would let on. When they first met at their betrothal ceremony, she felt a sense of belonging. Two outcasts from high society, one gravely ill and one a former Death Eater, a fitting arrangement.

She was shaken from her thoughts as Draco put the potion to her lips. "Gently, now," Draco whispered. It took all her willpower to stomach the bitter liquid and she briefly mused on the awful tea they both had on their first real date. Scorpius gave Astoria her tea, brows furrowed exactly like her husband's.

Scorpius.

If Draco made her happy, Scorpius made her feel alive. How could she forget when Scorpius was born, when his fingers wrapped around one of her own as he lay upon her breast? Or when he first opened his eyes, blue-grey just as Draco's? His unbridled joy as Scorpius gushed on about Albus Potter? Scorpius was the reason Astoria took the potions, tried every treatment, and missed no appointments. For the hope she could see him for as many wonderful, remarkable days as possible. These moments made Astoria comprehend the staggering effect her death would now have. The thought that Astoria would never see another once she died made her sick to her stomach.

"Scorpius, will you fetch your mother a blanket?" Draco surely sensed the warmth draining from her. Moisture pricked her eyes, and Astoria was thankful Scorpius couldn't see this.

" _I don't want to die,_ " Astoria pleaded softly. Draco wiped a tear with his thumb. The sympathetic look in his eyes only brought more, and she started to heave.

"I know." He kissed her forehead, with the delicacy of carrying a porcelain vase. "We'll make the most of it, yeah?" Astoria nodded in reply. Scorpius hadn't come back. He wouldn't want to see her in this state, anyway. He was always a bit of a wuss.

Draco and Astoria sat like this for while, unspoken words stretching between them. "I want to go to Rome," Astoria said after some time, "with you, I mean. And Scorp."

"The Healers said-"

"Can you fulfill a dying woman's wishes?" Stubbornness overtook her emotions, she knew he had to give in.

"Astoria, you're not dying yet. You can't..." His thought was left incomplete. "I'll arrange a Portkey. But only because I love you." He kissed her forehead again. Would she ever know if that was true? Was that a desire of hers? Astoria felt Draco pull away, and the chill was suddenly noticeable. "Sorry, I'm not proficient in...this. Not as much as alchemy at least," he added conversationally.

"That makes both of us." Astoria smiled, even though her head is throbbing and the taste of the potion lingered in her mouth. Someday, Astoria would be on her deathbed. Today, she's cheated Death again.

"Mum! Dad! Albus wrote me a letter!" Scorpius waved the parchment above his head, like waving a flag at a Quidditch game. Astoria used to go watch the Qudditch World Cup with Daphne. She always wished she could fly, though her malediction wouldn't allow it. Flying meant escaping reality. With a kick, Astoria could leave the rumors, her illness, and the world behind.

"Read to your mother, Scorpius," Draco suggested. Scorpius sat to the left of Astoria, prompting her to lean in so she could read the scrawny handwriting of Albus Potter.

"Scorpius. How is your summer? James hasn't stopped bothering me about being your friend, he says I'm a 'slimy Slytherin.' I told him it doesn't matter what he thinks..."

Maybe she doesn't need a broom to fly. Astoria's found her wings.

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 **Word Count: 945**

 **A/N: What did you like or dislike? Is it too cliche? This is my first story so feel free to give constructive criticism.**


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